


Tony's Hoard

by ivyness



Series: AU Yeah August 2018 [30]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Families of Choice, Multi, Team as Family, Underage Drinking, au yeah august
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 08:46:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16991796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivyness/pseuds/ivyness
Summary: Tony collects people





	Tony's Hoard

Tony was a hoarder. What he couldn’t make himself, he had enough money to buy. He fancied himself something of a dragon and enjoyed picturing himself sitting jealousy on his hoard, hissing steam and shooting rockets from his wrists.

But as a child, his tendencies had been tempered by his mother’s pursed lips and his father’s angry scowling. There was never any yelling but his things had a tendency of quietly disappearing; his room turned showroom clean. 

Only his workshop was left untouched. It was a smaller space adjoining his bedroom that had traditionally been used as a play area. His father figured that if he wanted to play with toys then Tony ought to learn to make them himself, and so he did.

Tony stuffed his workshop with toys, books, computers, blueprints and robots. He filled his workshop to bursting and then expanded into the neighboring rooms until the whole floor was his workshop, his kingdom and treasure chest.

And then his father took that away too.

When Tony found out he had been accepted into MIT the first thing he did was run, whooping and laughing, to tell Jarvis the news. Jarvis had congratulated him, straightened Tony’s perpetually unruly hair and declared that the night’s dinner would be a feast, all of Tony’s favorites. 

And while Tony was giddy and breathless with joy, Jarvis quietly assembled the household staff, discreetly giving out orders and preparing for the worst, a small, tight, frown of worry maring his face.

Jarvis’s maneuvering included a heavy hand on the wine bottle that evening. It might have been the only thing which kept Tony’s father from disowning him at the dinner table when he found out Tony was dead set on going to MIT instead of Harvard. That night, with Jarvis’s help, Tony snuck out with a single backpack and left for Boston. Everything he had made, everything he loved, all his blueprints and prototypes, his workshop, he left it all behind.

\--- Rhodey and Pepper ---

Tony was drunk. Tony was very, very drunk.

The bass was like a hammer against his throbbing skull. Shrill laughter grated on his ears as his pushed his way through the hazy, spinning room, gasping for air and shying away from the sticky, sweaty bodies shoving against him.

Tony practically threw himself out the front door, arms pinwheeling as he tripped down the front steps and caught himself against the hood of a car. It was blessedly cool against his flaming hot cheeks and he was painfully grateful that it saved him from a face full of pavement.

He allowed himself a moment to catch his breath and let the world stop spinning. His brain came online and details of the car started trickling in.

The poor thing was missing its wheels, propped up on cinder blocks and a mechanic's shop of parts and tools was basically strewn across its front and back seats. Tony whimpered in pity.

The car’s front door was unlocked. 

Tony glanced back over at the house, the party still going strong. Whoever owned the car would not be coming out anytime soon.

Tony picked up a wrench and eased open the hood.

*****

“What the hell?!”

Tony jumped. His head banged against the bottom of the car’s propped open hood, and he fell to the ground with a painful thud. The headache that had magically been forgotten while he had been working on the car came roaring back with a vengeance and he whimpered in pain.

A guy stood over him, looking distinctly unimpressed. “What have you been doing to my car, kid?”

Tony pointed an accusatory finger at him. “You!”

The guy raised a single eyebrow.

Tony’s head pounded angrily at him and his finger wavered as the guy seemed to multiply, his voice strangely echoey as the ground tilting dangerously around him. “Huh,” Tony said as he proceeded to throw up on the guy’s shoes.

Groggily, Tony heard loud cursing, and then felt gentle hands heave him upright.

“Please tell me you didn’t break my car”

Tony listed indignantly, the guy’s hold the only thing keeping him on his feet. “I couldn’t break her if I tried,” he said, poking a finger at where he vaguely remembered the guy’s face being. “I can’t believe you took away her tires when the engine is literally a work of art,” Tony said, pretending to swoon and then falling face first into the guy’s chest.

The guy gave a grunt of exertion as he was forced to take all of Tony’s weight but his voice was full of amusement “Pretty ain’t it?”

“Yes,” Tony agreed wholeheartedly. “But, but why,” Tony whined, “Tires!”

The guy shrugged, unrepentant. “People see what they want to see. And those who truly understand what she’s got under the hood, well, those are few and far between.”

Tony scowled. He knew what was under her hood. “You know could get more vroooom if you, you know, cold air - and tires you heartless bastard - the intake yeah?” and he yanked the guy over to the car, pointing vaguely in the direction of the engine. “There - right there and a modulator underneath.”

Off balance, vomited on, with armfuls of a drunk, incoherent child, Rhodey looked inside the hood of the car he had been working on for the past five months. 

“What nonsense or you spewing? You can’t put an intake valve there, you’d have to redo the whole exhaust system and move the fuel pump and, and - Huh.”

Tony crowed triumphantly, pumping an uncoordinated fist in the air “And then the turbines!”

Rhodey felt one part horrified, two parts perplexed, three parts excited, all parts amused, “What, no - the electric -”

“Forced induction system!”

“But then the torque - ah hell no.”

Tony’s grin was manic. “Aw hell yes!”

“I’m going to regret this aren’t I?” Rhodey said, his grin just as manic.

Five days later Rhodey moved into Tony’s penthouse apartment.

*****

Tony grumbled, shifting in the uncomfortably lumpy chair in the reception area to the Dean’s office. He glanced over at Rhodey sitting next to him, his face a stony mask.

“I’ll tell them it was my idea - that you tried to stop me,” Tony said, tentatively.

Rhodey turned to glare at him, “Shut up. You would’ve blown yourself up if it wasn’t for me.”

Tony ducked his head, smiling, “Yeah, that’s true.”

A throat cleared and Tony looked up to see one of the Dean’s secretaries standing in front of them. Her mouth was pinched resolutely downwards but her eyes couldn’t help glittering with amusement.

Rhodey sat up ramrod straight, “Miss Potts, it’s nice to see you again.”

Tony rolled his eyes and made gagging noises until Rhodey elbowed him in the ribs.

Pepper raised a single, judgemental eyebrow but her voice was all smiles as she said, “Hello, you two. I saw the makeover you gave to Killian Court.” Her lips twitched, “Might I suggest a few less scorch marks next time.”

Tony grinned. “Yeah, the only reason the freshman auditorium is still standing is thanks to this killjoy,” he said, jerking his thumb towards a mortified looking Rhodey. “He confiscated my liquid nitrogen. The guy deserves a medal or a trophy, some kind of reward for saving the day.”

Pepper let out a surprised laugh, her hand automatically coming up to hide her smile. 

Rhodey stared at her like a besotted idiot.

She shifted her weight and tapped one brightly painted nail against her lips in thought, “Well, the Dean definitely won’t see it that way, however-” she said and walked over to her desk and scribbled on the back of a small card, before walking back to hand it to Rhodey with a bright, uncovered, toothy grin.

“Wrangling this one is probably a full time job,” she said, pointing to Tony who preened as if given the highest of compliments. “But give me a call when you’ve got some free time and I’ll see about buying you a coffee.”

Tony’s jaw dropped.

Pepper smiled and her heels clicked elegantly as she walked away.

“Holy shit.”

“I know!”

“Holy shit!”

Rhodey and Pepper went on their first date that weekend. 

A month later, Pepper moved into the room next to Rhodey’s in Tony’s apartment.

\--- Natasha and Clint ---

Natasha always thought of herself as a fairly reasonable person. One who made realistic life choices with rational plans with which to follow through. The problem was, she had terrible friends who made terrible decisions and she loved them terribly much.

And that’s how she found herself at a dive bar with Tony, trying to get him drunk and arrested and then tossed into the same jail cell that Clint had been sitting in for the past four hours.

It wasn’t necessarily a rational plan but Natasha had a feeling that it would work.

Clint liked Tony. And Clint was a shitty judge in character but he was charming as hell and latched on like a leech. He could break open even the coldest of hearts with his huge puppy dog eyes and clumsy displays of affection; she would know. Clint pulled her ass out of hell and she’d been stuck with that tirefire of a human being ever since. 

Getting Tony to like Clint was not going to be a problem.

No, this plan was going to work because Natasha was an excellent judge of character. Tony wore his heart on his sleeve and once he got attached, he wouldn’t hesitate to give them the world. She saw the way he acted around Rhodey and Pepper, starved for affection but unsure how to ask for it.

Tony had so many chinks in his armour, it would be as easy as breathing for Natasha to slip right through. To steal his heart and his mind and have him serve her the world on a gleaming, silver platter.

But Natasha was just realizing that, no, she didn’t actually want to break him. Granted, she’d still wrangle Tony into helping them. But after all this was over she’d need to take a good hard look at herself; she wasn’t sure when she had turned into such a sap. She blamed Clint. It was always a safe bet to blame Clint.

*****

Clint didn’t know he he ended up here.

Here being a cold, dank jail cell with a lap full of drunk genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.

Clint didn’t mind. Honestly, he probably smelled worse than Tony did right now.

Besides, he was pretty sure this was all his fault anyway. Tony had been a job, and a fairly easy job at that. Infiltrate a party, grab a couple of fingerprints, steal some money from people who certainly didn’t need it. But of course, Clint had had to go and get his feelings involved.

It was just supposed to be a routine kind of job but the problem was: Tony wasn’t just a routine billionaire scumbag. 

Sure, he had hit on Natasha but he had kept his hands to himself and his eyes on her face. And when he had asked Natasha to dance, Clint actually heard her laugh; a real laugh, not one of her fake, reel-em in and skewer them kind of laughs.

And he gave Clint a tip! Granted he was kind of a terrible waiter but still, no one else gave him a tip. Let alone a hundred dollar tip, the money grubbing bastards. But Tony gave a tip to everyone: the waitstaff and the valets, the bartenders and the caterers and the janitors. Everyone.

And sure Tony had a tongue sharp enough to gut a man but so did Natasha and look how that turned out. 

“Huh,” Clint said and tilted his head to look down at Tony lying passed out on his lap. Tony looked pale and skinny, with dark bags under his eyes, gangly despite his immaculately tailored suit. His face was pushed up tight against Clint’s stomach, his hand curled loosely around Clint’s shirt sleeve, and he was huddled up as tight as he could get on the cold, skinny bench. Tony looked terribly young and terribly lonely, his drool seeping into Clint’s pants.

“Aw shit,” said Clint, feeling his feelings aflutter.

The day after Tony bailed them out of jail, Tony bought apartments one floor down from his own and within the week, Clint and Natasha had moved in.

\--- Bruce and Thor and Jane ---

As all these things tend to happen, Tony was drunk.

He wasn’t drunk on alcohol; Pepper and Rhodey, Natasha and Clint, had all been steadily weaning him off. Hiding his bottles, shoving him in front of a particularly interesting problem when his throat felt parched, protecting him from the worst of the socialites and status seekers who still believed his fortune and success was all thanks to his father.

No, Tony hadn’t had a lick of alcohol in quite a long time. Tony was drunk on science. And as is the case with all good drinks, Tony wasn’t drinking alone.

It had been 38 hours since Tony had met Bruce and in those 38 hours they had neither slept, eaten, shaved, bathed, or caved. They were so close they could just about feel it: the solution to the Navier-Stokes equation.

It was a Millenium Problem of the Clay Mathematics Institute but neither of them cared about the prize money or for that matter, the math. They were an engineer and a biochemist and they were going to solve it with Science. And once they’d solved it, they would have a predictive model for the waves that followed a boat, the turbulence following a jet, or more specifically the waves generated by a person hurtling through the air in a suit of armor (for research purposes of course). 

Obviously, they were doing the math. Both of them were geniuses. But they were also scientists and scientists did Experiments. 

That’s how Tony found himself hovering four feet in the air, covered head to toe in sensors and monitors, in his first pair of armored boots and gauntlets and a prototype propulsion system. Bruce was grinning ear-to-ear as Tony whooped and flew around the lab, as high as the ceiling would let him.

It was 2 AM and pitch dark outside when Bruce finally relented to Tony’s whining and agreed that the prototypes were maybe, probably, okay for testing in an outdoor environment.

They had already dragged three carts of equipment out to the big green expanse of Kilian Court before they realized that the grounds weren’t as abandoned as they originally thought.

“Ho there, young men!”

Tony and Bruce startled, as a giant, golden-haired, god of a man came strolling out of the darkness. They looked at each other in the bewilderment of the science-drunk, certain they were hallucinating. No man could be so beautiful.

“I bid you well on your scientific endeavors this evening,” the god boomed in a voice like thunder, “My fairest Jane, Dr. Jane Foster, PhD, is also pursuing enquiries of a scientific nature and while on a normal night we would certainly be welcome to the company, tonight, her’s is of a sensitive sort.”

Thor gave their carts full of equipment a thorough, assessing look. “But perhaps my warnings are a bit hasty,” Thor grinned, his teeth a blinding flash of white in the dark. He nodded to the boots strapped to Tony’s feet and the gauntlets on his hands, “I am quite certain Jane would find your work to be intriguing.”

Tony glanced nervously over at Bruce who looked like he had just died and gone to heaven. “Dr. Foster?” Bruce asked, the slightest bit breathless.

“Indeed!” Thor laughed, and with a heavy hand on their shoulders led them inexorably forward into the darkness.

Dr. Foster was huddled under a pitch black tent, sitting in total darkness, except for a small slit in the tent that let in a trickle of moonlight. She was surrounded by the hum and whir of machinery. She refused to let them into the tent. 

“But Jane,” Thor whined, heartbroken and abandoned.

Jane was unmoved, “I told you I can’t have people coming in and out of the tent, not while I’m still collecting data. Too much movement could interfere with the readings.”

Thor sighed, glancing at Tony’s boots, “But I brought you a present.”

She hummed a bit distractedly, “Anything interesting?”

Bruce grinned, bright and manic, and Tony smiled back, feeling the berserker-like madness of science sweeping back over them. “Oh, you know, just building some turbulence data sets on the bounding uncertainties of the Navier-Stokes equations.”

Silence came from inside the tent.

“We’ve got jet boots -”

The tent flap flew open and a bright eyed Dr. Foster came stumbling out, “Well, what are you waiting for, let’s get started.”

*****

Five hours later, they were all huddled together, half asleep in the reception area to the Dean’s office.

Tony startled awake when he heard the tell-tale clack of heels. “Pepper,” he called out down the hall, “Can I first just say, this was not my fault. Well, maybe a little bit my fault. But only like, only 65% my fault.”

“Hey!” Bruce said, his voice muffled by Thor’s muscular chest, “I solved for the heat quotient.”

“Multi-model area vector,” came Jane’s voice from Thor’s thighs.

Tony flapped a hand at them, trying to shush them as Pepper came around the corner into sight. Her mouth was arched angrily downwards but she was carrying a large tray of coffee and a bag smelling deliciously of bagels.

She stopped in front of their ragtag, sleep deprived, grass-stained group, the coffee and food held just out of reach, “Tell me why you crazy lot deserve coffee.”

All four voices rang in heavenly harmony, “Science.”

Pepper’s lips twitched, refusing to smile. “Why did science have to set the Killian Court on fire?” She glanced at Tony, “Again?”

Thor, dearest, bravest, Thor ventured, “The pursuit of progress is fraught with danger and misadventure. These brave souls placed their lives on science’s mighty altar, it is to be expected that the world would not come out unscathed, for better or for worse, only time will tell.”

Bruce teared up and Tony felt distinctly sniffly himself. Jane smiled serenely, used to the theatrics by now.

Pepper quirked one dubious, judgemental eyebrow. “Yes, but you set fire Killian Court.”

Thor shrugged the one shoulder Bruce wasn’t using as a pillow, “No lives were lost, no warriors injured, is that not all we should be thankful for?”

Pepper tapped her heel sharply against the floor, “And what of the other students? The ones who can no longer get to their classrooms, you would have them sit in smoke filled rooms? Deprive other of their education in pursuit of your own goals?”

“Er.”

“Right. I don’t know if any of you deserve this coffee. It’s going to be a nightmare just to convince the Dean not the kick you all out.”

Tony raised his hand cautiously and Pepper glared at him as he continued, “What if we gave the prize money to the school?”

Bruce and Jane squaked in protest but Pepper ignored them, her sharp gaze on Tony, “Prize money you say?” 

Tony nodded, “A million dollars.”

Pepper hummed in thought a moment before abruptly handing over the coffee and bagels. The four of them pounced like a starved group of rabid hyenas while Pepper looked on with a fond smile, “Yes, a million dollars. I think I can work with that,” she said as she turned on her heel and headed into the Dean’s office.

Around a mouthful of bagel, Thor said, “She’s terrifying.”

Bruce nodded in agreement, coffee dripping down his chin.

“I like her,” Jane said, as she carefully wiped at Bruce’s chin with a napkin.

Bruce smiled shyly at her and she smiled back, pulling him so they both could lean against Thor’s broad chest.

“Aw, shit,” thought Tony.

This time, Tony just bought the whole building. The next day, Jane and Thor and Bruce moved in.

\--- Steve (and Tony) ---

Tony was not lonely.

He had his workshop and his robots and everything he could ever want for. He had friends who loved him, scienced with him, and kept him from being expelled; Tony was not lonely.

He had Pepper and Rhodey, steady as a rock on fire, who’d put up with his disaster much longer than could be expected of anyone reasonably sane. Natasha and Clint were nowhere near sane but their history had history and you couldn’t tear them apart if you tried. Jane and Thor were like mythical beings, so disgustingly cute they could blind you. And Bruce was perfectly fine not tying his rope to anyone but he seemed happy enough to turn to Jane and Thor for cuddles.

If Tony ever asked he knew they wouldn’t hesitate to pat him on the back or ruffle his hair, give him a breathlessly tight hug. And even though he never asked, they all seemed to know anyway. It showed when they all squeezed tightly together on the couch, or when a hand brushed his in passing, when one of them bodily dragged him out of his workshop at 3 AM. 

They loved him, and they went out of their way to show it. But it wasn’t the same and it wasn’t what he wanted. It wasn’t the same as what they had with each other. Pepper and Rhodey. Natasha and Clint. Jane and Thor. Even Bruce, though Tony knew Bruce didn’t need it like Tony needed it.

Tony was fine. He wasn’t lonely.

When his father called, Tony was not the same child who cowered in his room, hiding behind walls of books and robots. He was graduating with a masters from MIT, and had his own tower filled with princes and princesses, but all Howard had to say was, “I have dinner reservations for 7 PM tomorrow night. Black tie. Don’t be late.” 

And Tony crumpled like wet newspaper.

Tony didn’t tell anyone about the call. He tried to convince himself he wasn’t going all the way up until he was choking on his too tight bowtie, being ushered to a table covered with white linen and bright, gleaming silverware.

 

At first, Tony thought the maitre d made a mistake because there was a handsome, blonde stranger already seated at the table. He was tall and broad-shouldered and gave off the impression of curling in on himself despite sitting ramrod straight. His rumpled tweed suit was out of place next to the restaurant's finery. It was worn thin at the elbows and the cuffs and was at least three sizes too big.

The man’s terrible fashion choices didn’t hide the strong, bright blue of his eyes or the gorgeous purse of his lips, muscles corded with tension and fidgeting with discomfort.

He looked up and smiled wanly at Tony, “Ah, you must be Howard’s son.”

Tony felt his lip automatically curl up in his patented media smirk and he dropped himself carelessly into a chair, flinging his arms out and his legs wide. “The one and only,” he said, and waved down a waiter to order a glass of scotch.

The man straightened his already ridiculously straight shoulders and carefully smoothed out the fine linen tablecloth with his large, calloused hands. “Are you old enough to drink?” he asked, disapproving.

Tony waved the question away, knocking back the first drink he’d had since he ended up in a jail cell with Clint. “You don’t already know?” Tony asked, sly, insinuating and just a little bit vicious. Tony rolled his eyes as the boyscout sunk back into stony silence.

Tony was contemplating waving for a second drink when Howard burst in like a whirlwind.

“Steve, my boy!” Howard exclaimed, “How are you? How have you been? No, no sit, I insist,” he said as Steve stood up to greet him.

“Hi dad,” Tony said from his seat, lifting his glass in salute. Howard flicked him a glance and a gave him a nod before turning back to Steve with a thousand watt smile.

“Been a while, Steve. Terribly difficult to clear up my schedule for a visit. Next time you must come down to New York, much better than this dreadfully, stuffy place,” he waved his hand, indicating all of Boston, “Don’t worry I’ll pay for your fare down,” Howard said with a wink and a fake self-deprecating laugh.

Steve nodded stiffly, “Certainly, sir.”

Tony ordered his second scotch.

They didn’t even make it past the horderves. 

Howard was busy wheedling Steve. He tried to convince him to take some interviews, visit the labs, come down for dinner. He even asked to draw some of Steve’s blood. 

Steve’s shoulders got stiffer and stiffer as he declined each offer.

Finally, Howard changed tactics, “I’m glad you agreed to come to dinner, Steve. I’d been worried about the both of you, staying up here alone without friends or family.” he said without even glancing towards his son, a wry, concerned smile maring his face. “I’m sure you and Tony would make fast friends, and I hope you can provide Tony a steadying influence, remind him that it’s important to visit his old man now and again.”

The glass in Tony’s hand creaked as he squeezed tight, feeling used. His father hadn’t wanted to see him, just use him. Use him as bait to lure out this golden, stuck up, righteous-encrusted lab experiment.

Two pairs of eyes swiveled to look at him and alcohol burned in his throat as Tony realized that some of that must of slipped out. Ears burning angrily, he slammed his glass down on the table and headed towards the door before Howard could start in on a lecture. 

Out on the sidewalk, the wind cut through Tony’s sleek suit jacket. He headed out in a random direction, his head spinning as he tried to get lost in Boston’s crazy winding roads. He didn’t want to head home yet, didn’t need his friend’s warmth, pity, anger or whatever else they thought he needed, and his heart thumped heavy in his ears, ringing in time with heavy footfalls.

The heavy footsteps fell in time with his own.

It was Steve. Of course it was Steve. The golden boy probably wanted to apologize, the bastard.

Tony kept walking. His hands were freezing and he had to grit his teeth to keep them from chattering. From the corner of his eye he could see Steve’s long legs easily keeping pace and resisted the urge to speed up. 

But off course he couldn’t keep storming off forever. He reluctantly came to a halt at a red light with Steve standing just far enough away to not be intrusive, letting Tony have his space. The thoughtfulness was infuriating.

Tony whirled on him, a sneer firmly plastered to his face, “Did my father send you after me?“ 

Steve stood there, fists pushed deep into his coat pockets, haloed in moonlight and seeming larger against a backdrop of stars instead of chandeliers and silverware. Tony felt their differences starkly.

“I’m sorry. I hadn’t meant to intrude,” Steve said, slowly and calmly as if trying to placate a startled animal.

Tony waved him off as nonchalantly as possible, “It’s for the best really. If we had actually been alone the whole restaurant would have burned to the ground by now. You did us a favor by intruding.”

Steve’s mouth twisted into an unhappy line but he said nothing and they stood there in silence as the crosswalk sign turned white and a wave of people pushed forward and parted around them. Tony was carefully not looking at Steve, watching the crosswalk sign countdown: three, two, one.

“Tony,” Steve said, haltingly and reached out to brush the edge of Tony’s suit sleeve. Tony could just barely feel his fingers and had to resist pushing into their warmth. Steve coughed, awkwardly, “Let me buy you a coffee, or call you a taxi. It’s too cold to be walking around without a coat.”

Tony wanted to be cold. He wanted to be cold and angry and hurt. But Steve had seemed painfully out of place this whole evening and painfully aware of his own awkwardness. While Tony had gotten steadily more drunk, Steve had had to dodge his father’s manipulations on his own. Tony couldn’t hardly blame Steve for the mess his father made.

The world around them paused in the silence between one light and the next and Tony looked at Steve with his blonde hair and blue eyes, broad shoulders, and tentative, guarded smile. So easily breakable, so alone. No friends or family. Sought after by the likes of Howard Stark.

The light turned green, cars roared past them, and Tony stepped forward to take Steve’s hand.

*****

It was well past midnight, when they finally made it back to Tony’s tower. Tony’s suit jacket was a wet and shredded bundle of scraps hanging off his arm and there were scorch marks on Steve’s pants. Their hair was a riot of plaster and soot and Tony had a smudge of ash on his cheek that Steve kept reaching out to touch. They were practically walking on top of each other, arms and hands linked, heads tilted together conspiratorially. 

Pepper was pissed when they finally managed to get inside. “Why do all your dates end up on the internet?”

Steve tried to take a modest step back but Tony clung to him unrepentantly and smiled, “In my defense, the building was already on fire before we got there.”

Pepper scowled and crossed her arms, “That in no way makes any of this better.”

Despite the hour, all of his friends were sprawled across the couches in the common room. Clint raised his hand from the pile of limbs he, Natasha and Thor made. “It makes it a little better.”

Thor gently placed his hand on top of Clint’s mouth as Pepper turned to glare at him. Clint just smiled and kept taking behind Thor’s hand until Natasha flicked his ear and he yelped in pain.

Steve tried to take another step back and Tony just reeled him right back in.

“So,” Rhodey said as he walked up to Pepper’s side, staring Steve down, challengingly, “What shenanigans have you two gotten up to?”

Steve stiffened and stopped trying to retreat. “Nothing out of the ordinary I’m certain.”

Rhodey raised an unconvinced eyebrow. “Why don’t you come with me and let me get you something to drink. Then you can tell me all about how boring your evening was.”

Natasha stood up to follow. “I’ll come as well,” she said with a wolfish smile.

Steve hesitated, looking towards Tony. “It’ll be fine. They do this all the time but they know not to bite,” Tony said with a stern look towards Rhodey and Natasha as they heading for the kitchen.

Steve nodded shyly and turned to follow them. Tony smiled helplessly back.

“Wow, look at that ass. You’re so screwed,Tony,” Clint called from the couch.

Jane, who had her feet tucked up on the couch, under Bruce’s calves, asked, “Is he going to move into your bedroom? Or another apartment?”

Blushing, Tony turned to look at his friends, comfortable and happy in the space he had made for them. He felt a grin on his face and laughed as he ran to jump on top of the Thor cuddle pile. Clint squawked as he ducked out of the way of Tony’s knees and elbows.

He could hear vaguely threatening tones coming from the kitchen and tipped his head back to see Pepper smiling indulgently down at him.

“Yeah, I’m pretty fucked, aren’t I?” Tony said and he grinned, lopsided up at Pepper, “He’s moving in tomorrow.”

“It’s already tomorrow,” Pepper pointed out.

“Oh,” Tony smiled and snuggled back down into Clint’s hug, happy, “Then I guess he’s already moved in.”

**Author's Note:**

> I know nothing about cars. I had to google "car fast engine parts" in order to make a drunk Tony sound coherent. I apologize for nothing and for everything.


End file.
